


fear in a handful of dust

by rosary



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 09:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17957807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosary/pseuds/rosary
Summary: The apocalypse takes the long way around.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s a long way down from the rooftops, but Barbara’s not afraid of falling. Up here, she can see everything going on in the city below. A woman walking her Pomeranian. Two giggling teens on an awkward first date. An old man purposefully dropping a penny on the ground for others to find. Sometimes, it actually makes her feel… good about Gotham.

“Go away! Please! _Help!_ ”

Only sometimes.

Barbara follows the sound of a screaming child – and, boy, does that voice carry – until she’s looking down at a putrid-smelling alleyway below. There, a young man who looks to be about eighteen or so has cornered a cowering trio of elementary school children. Babs scowls, rage welling up inside her. She despises people who prey on the defenseless. It’s weak. It’s cowardly. It’s _repulsive._

She swings into the alleyway, dropping down behind the man. The smell is even worse down here; it must be all the litter and public urination. The children’s eyes go wide. One of them, a girl with sickeningly adorable blonde pigtails, points at her and gasps, “It’s Batgirl!”

 _So much for the element of surprise_ , she thinks, and preemptively grabs a batarang to defend herself with as the man begins to turn. “Woof. I’ve seen some lowlifes in my day, but picking on little kids? You’re a real—”

Barbara’s grasp loosens and her voice catches in her throat when she lays eyes on the man’s face. It’s pale, too pale, and lifeless. His eyes are glassy and clouded over. His lips are nearly blue. Blood gushes out of a deep wound on his cheek, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“...Monster,” she finishes with a whisper, right before he lunges at her.

He’s faster than she’d expected after seeing the glazed over look in his eyes, and she has to bodily shove him away just to gain some distance. On the bright side, it looks like she’s his new squeeze; maybe she makes for more interesting prey than a few seven-year-olds.

“Get out of here!” Barbara yells to the kids as she executes a roundhouse kick. The man – if she can call him that – seems undeterred by the pain of a foot to the face. If anything, she’s just given him something to grab onto; he latches onto her boot and she kicks at him vigorously in an attempt to shake him off. It’d be comedic if she weren’t so freaked out.

The kids make a run for it, darting past Barbara, and it seems the man’s interest is easily obtained, because he begins chasing after them once more. _In your dreams_ , Barbara thinks, and she throws a batarang at the back of his leg. As predicted, he stumbles. Unpredictably, he keeps right on limping as if nothing happened.

It takes three more hits to the head and five more batarangs – one concussive – to knock this guy down. Once he’s no longer a threat, Babs kneels down to get a better look at him. She’d assumed the stench was due to garbage, but now that she’s up close and personal, it’s clear that _he’s_ the one who smells like decay. She stands and snaps a picture of his peculiar face.

Yeah, she’s definitely going to have to mention _this_ one to the rest of the crew.

 

 

 

“So, you fought an ugly guy who smelled bad?” Dick asks, halfway through a cartwheel. Sometimes, Barbara envies how it’s all just second nature to him; he really was meant to fly. Other times, though, she wishes he’d stop the acrobatics for two dang seconds. “Hate to break it to you, but there’s a _lot_ of guys like that around here.”

She arranged to meet with Nightwing and Batman on the rooftop of the GCPD building to discuss her recent encounter not long after leaving it. Batman was ‘in the middle of something’ – _aren’t you always?_ Babs thought but didn’t say – and told her he’d be there in half an hour. Now, all she and Dick can do is wait.

“No,” she answers, crossing her arms defensively. After a pause, she continues, “…Okay, yes, but there’s more to it than that.”

Nightwing stops his restless gymnastics and settles for leaning against the door leading to the stairwell instead. He raises an eyebrow, doubtful. Barbara can already tell he’s going to make fun of her relentlessly (the only way he knows how).

“I keep replaying it over and over in my head, looking for clues.” It’s a good thing she has eidetic memory. She can remember every detail down to the brand of shoes he was wearing: some Adidas knock-off called Adidos. “Something was wrong with him. He seemed… Honestly? He seemed like he was rotting.”

As expected, Dick’s mouth twists into that smile he gets before he’s about to unleash some patented Dick Grayson mockery. “You know, lots of people come up with false memories when confronted with traumatic B.O., Batgirl.”

“Shut up.”

It’s then that Batman finally makes his appearance, silently grappling down beside them. This time, Babs is going to be happier to get his input. Maybe she’s just being paranoid, but something feels off – and paranoid is practically Bruce’s middle name. Dick gives him a little wave while Barbara fumbles for her phone. Seeing it is better than anything she can describe. It’s grotesque, but she doubts Batman or Nightwing will flinch. Besides, they should count themselves lucky. _They_ don’t have to smell anything.

“Good, you’re here.” She pulls out her phone and navigates to the picture she took. It’s just as grisly as before. “It was like he wasn’t feeling any of my hits,” she explains as she hands the phone over to Bruce. “He looked like he was on the verge of death, but he moved fast and hit hard. And he smelled like… like he was putrefying.” She wrinkles her nose, and notices Dick involuntarily doing the same.

Bruce examines the photo for a few more moments before handing it back to Barbara. “Did you notify the police?” She nods. Of course she did. He was attacking kids. Even if they don’t have any evidence that’s going to stick, they need to know he’s out there victimizing children. “If he’s as sick as you say, they’ll take him to a hospital.”

Barbara immediately catches on to his meaning. From the look in Dick’s eyes, he does, too. “The closest one to where he was is Mercy, I think,” he says, looking to Babs for confirmation.

She nods. “I’ll keep an eye out for anyone matching his description being admitted. We can follow up from there.” Nervously, she adds, “I know it’s probably nothing, but… something just doesn’t feel right.”

“You were right to question it,” Bruce replies, and she feels a little swell of pride. _God, so pathetic._ It just feels nice to be validated. “I’ve never seen any illness that mimics these symptoms.”

“If we discover a new disease, do we get it named after us?” Dick asks. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid you’ve contracted _Batman’s disease._ ”

Ignoring him, Bruce continues, “I’ll keep looking into it. Do some research of my own. Notify me if you get a match at Mercy Hospital.”

Babs nods dutifully and Bruce turns to leave. Dick frowns.

“Batman’s disease? Anyone?”

Bruce locks his grapple onto a neighboring building. As he swings away, Barbara hears him monotone, “You can do better.”

Dick looks vaguely offended, but Barbara grins. She doesn’t realize she’s giggling until he looks at her. _Oops._ She shrugs.

“He’s not wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> story is set vaguely in some preboot/n52/rebirth mashup - don't @ me. tags atm are set for what i have already written, but more characters (and possibly ships) are to come!
> 
> title is from the waste land by t.s. eliot.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s 2:25 AM. Bruce is de-cowled, sitting at the Batcomputer, using security footage from the last few days to track the movements of an emerging drug lord. He can’t help but notice a woman in the background of one of the shots from yesterday showing similar characteristics to Barbara’s assailant; the quality of the video is poor, but he can make out her unnaturally sallow skin and sunken in eyes. Passers-by are giving her a wide berth. Her smell?

It’s possible he’s seeing a pattern where there is none. Maybe even imagining these characteristics in the vagueness of the low-resolution video. It’s also possible that Barbara was actually onto something with her disease idea. Like she knew he was thinking about her, a call from her comes in through his comms. Before he can even get a chance to acknowledge her, she’s saying, “Batman, it’s Batgirl. Are you listening to the police scanner?” She sounds out of breath.

He opens his mouth to tell her ‘no’, but she cuts him off. “Turn it on. Now.”

Barbara hasn’t sounded this grim in a while, so he complies without grumbling. There’s so much commotion that at first he can’t make out what they’re saying. Then—

_\--ot two more down, heading into the bank._

_Copy, heading into the bank._

_506, suspect spotted east of the clocktower. Requesting backup._

_Copy 506, requesting backup._

_Oh, my God, they’ve all been ripped apart._

_What?_

_Everyone in the bank. Just like the ones outside._

_Can you identify yourself? How many down?_

_Right, sorry, God—uh, 502, must be… 7 down? Oh, God._

_Copy 502, 7 more down._

_506, still requesting backup. The suspect is approaching. Suspect is nonverbal but appears hostile._

_Copy, 5—_

_Jesus Christ! Oh, God! Oh, God, this can’t be happening! They should be dead!_

_The victims are alive?_

_Not alive. No. Oh, Jesus. Please, no. Get away from me! Get back!_

_I need backup! 504, where the hell are you?_

An officer lets out a blood-curdling scream. Bruce turns off the scanner.

“That’s just the police,” Barbara says. “I’ve been around the city. Violent crime has at least doubled overnight. People are getting attacked, unprovoked, and not just in the Narrows. Every time, the perpetrators had that same look to them. Like they were diseased.

I’m going to Mercy. If I’m right, they’ve put uncontrollably violent madmen all in one place. They need someone to protect them.”

It’s so Barbara. Bruce feels a little bit like a proud father, then; this girl that he’s watched grow up is a true hero where it really matters. It could melt his damn heart. He doesn’t verbalize this. Instead, he says, gruffly, “Good call.”

He’s still shaken by the sounds of the police officers. It takes him a few seconds extra to formulate his plan of action. Sloppy.

“I’ll assemble who I can to cover the city. Priority number one is getting the assailants into custody. Studying them for signs of disease comes after.”

“Understood,” Barbara says, entirely Batgirl in this moment. She softens after a moment. “Spread the word, Batman. And stay safe.”

The corners of his mouth lift just slightly. “Stay safe, Batgirl.”


	3. Chapter 3

Batgirl doesn’t stay safe. (In her defense, when has she ever?)

Everything is dark, and it hurts. Barbara realizes, belatedly, that she can’t see anything because the horde of people who’ve tackled her to the ground are blocking her vision. They’re relentless, vicious. Less humanity in them than she’s seen in even Gotham’s worst criminals.

She fights back, hitting one in the ribs with the sole of her yellow boots as hard as she can. She feels the crack; there’s no reaction. Another, she elbows in the nose. If it isn’t broken, she’d be surprised, but it doesn’t deter a single one of her attackers, no matter how many blows she lands. At most, the recipient of her violence seems dazed for a moment, but it’s not enough, not with these numbers—when it was just the one, she could take advantage of the momentary stun to do more lasting damage, but not like this.

The weight of the horde just keeps piling on, crushing her. _Why is this happening to me?_ Barbara thinks. It’s not the first time.

As she struggles to breathe, all she can think of is her dad. She doesn’t want him to find out who Batgirl is by identifying her body at the morgue. She doesn’t want to die not knowing if he’s okay. _Why is this happening to me?_

There’s light again. She feels the sensation of being pulled. She blinks, dazed, allowing herself to be unceremoniously yanked onto her feet.

Whipping around so fast her hair actually slaps her in the face, she sees Nightwing and Robin. _Oh._ Robin past her. Nightwing grabs her by the elbow.

“We need to go.”

She gives him a questioning look. Sure, she’d just had her butt kicked, but she can’t leave everyone here, defenseless.

It’s like he can read her thoughts. “We won’t leave anyone behind. But Babs, this is bigger—”

A deep voice echoes from another part of the building. If she had to guess, a few hallway away. _“Alpha Team, starting sweep of the west wing.”_

“They called in the SWAT team?” she asks, eyes widening. There isn’t time for Dick to answer her; she glances over to see Damian being mobbed by at least ten people, having rushed headlong into the fray. This must be how parents feel when their children do something stupid and dangerous. A mixture of anger and worry. “Robin!”

Fending them off is graceless and mostly ineffectual, but still easier than it was alone. She punches when Nightwing kicks, fighting away the crowd until Robin delivers a deafening blow to the last one pinning him down. Barbara’s pretty sure she hears a cracking sound when fist meets skull, but she chooses not to mention it. She holds a hand out to help him up, but being prideful, he stands on his own.

“An impressive display of strength and agility, but I actually had my combatants precisely where I wanted them—”

“Will you shut up and run?” Dick says, not without affection, and yanks Damian towards the main hall.

Barbara's smart enough to know she doesn't want to get left behind.

 

 

 

Later, in the manor’s living room, Dick tells her that he and Damian had been in the opposite wing helping the doctors and patients get to safety. She frowns, wondering if they all escaped. Wondering if any of them ended up swarmed like she was, helpless. She shivers.

“Those guys just won’t go down. At best, you can knock them out for a bit, and that’s if you’re lucky.” She worries her lip. “I’m thinking buddy system?”

Alfred sets three hot chocolates on the coffee table. “Master Damian, Master Richard, Miss Gordon,” he says, nodding in greeting. “I’m glad to see tonight’s events haven’t impeded your scheming abilities.”

Damian looks vaguely annoyed that he’s sitting here drinking hot chocolate with Alfred, Dick, and her, but Barbara can tell there’s some fondness under that pissy expression. She’s learned how to find it after years of knowing his father. He let her help bandage his wrist up, too, so he can’t be _that_ irritated.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Dick says, and Barbara nods. He continues, “Agreed. We don’t want any more repeats of tonight.”

Both Barbara and Damian bristle. “I was _outnumbered_ —” Barbara starts to say, just as Damian says, “I _told_ you I had the entire situation under control—”

“It’s almost too easy,” Dick says, grinning.

Her phone rings, and she fumbles for it, looking hopefully at the caller ID. _Dad._ He hasn’t picked up the phone since the craziness started. She breaks out into a wide grin and holds up a finger as she walks away from the coffee table. In the distance, she can hear Dick and Damian still arguing about how ‘under control’ the situation was.

“Dad!” she exclaims, almost too excited. “Dad, are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” comes his voice on the other end of the line, and she breathes a sigh of relief. “What matters is—are _you_ okay, Barbara?”

“Yes, Dad,” she says, rolling her eyes a little. She doesn’t tell him she almost got her face clawed off at the hospital earlier. He doesn’t need to know that little tidbit. Instead, he can think she’s just a daughter who thinks her dad worries too much. “But what’s going on?”

“Honestly?” He pauses. “We don’t know. It’s like those movies you kids used to watch.”

“Yeah, like _Plan 9 from Outer Space._ ”

“It just—it doesn’t make sense.” A muffled voice in the background of the call. “I know, I know, just give me a moment, I’m talking to my daughter.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, Barbara. Gotham needs us now more than ever. Be safe, okay? I love you.”

She bites her lip. “I love you too, Dad.”


End file.
